


Indulgence

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Donuts, Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:03:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: John likes to bring Harold donuts.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Michaelssw0rd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/gifts).



> For Michaelssw0rd, because we had another Rinch discussion and I couldn't get this image out of my head. Some of these words are really hers.

There's an open box of donuts on the table, but for some reason, Harold is denying himself.

 

He keeps casting longing glances at the box, but won't reach out to pick one up. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, nibbling at it, then quickly releases it when he sees John is watching him.

 

John swaggers towards the table, picks up a donut between his thumb and middle finger, and takes a bite. "Hmm. It's good, Finch." The dough is rich and satisfying, the icing a sweet strawberry flavor, and there's plenty of sprinkles.

 

Harold glances at him sideways. "Glad you like them, Mr. Reese, you bought them." Then he goes back to typing. The box is so near to his left hand, he could easily just snag one and continue working with his right. He usually does.

 

Seized with an impulse for mischief, John turns with a smirk towards Harold and plants his free hand on the desk. He leans down, into Harold's space, and offers him the donut, holding it so that it almost touches Harold's lips.

 

Harold glares up at him, unimpressed.

 

John gently squeezes the donut. A bit of jelly oozes out, so that Finch is forced to catch it with his tongue, or else let it drip onto his shirt. John feels a thrill of triumph when Harold chooses the first option. Then he follows it up with a proper bite, eating from John's hand. John's knees go weak when Harold closes his eyes and gives a throaty moan. He made that exact same noise last night, when John was deep inside him.

 

John watches Harold's chin and jaw rotate, his mouth working around the tasty treat. When he finally swallows, John shivers.

 

Harold's eyes open again, and he looks at John with such amused satisfaction, that John realizes he's been played. "Damn it, Finch. You win."

 

Harold's eyebrows quirk. "Indeed." He reaches up with both hands to grasp John's arm and wrist. He takes another quick bite to get rid of the rest of the jelly. Then he says: "I'm not particularly hungry, but perhaps I could manage the icing." He tilts John's wrist down so he can reach better.

 

"Sure." John murmurs, captivated. He's forced to watch as Harold's tongue takes eager swipes at pink icing; sugar and sprinkles disappear slowly but steadily. It's deeply satisfying to see Harold enjoying himself, shameless and seductive. By the time Harold is done, John's erection is tenting his pants.

 

Harold plucks the sticky remains of the donut from John's fingers and places it in the lid of the box. He pats his own thighs. "Sit, if you like." They've done this before, so John understands at once. His lifts his leg over and straddles Harold, careful to still support most of his own weight. Then Harold takes his hand again, and John can't suppress a tiny whimper when Harold sucks the remaining smears of sugar from his thumb.

 

\---

 

[ _a few years later_ ]

 

\---

 

It's early morning. John leaves Harold asleep in his bed and goes out to fetch breakfast. By the time he returns, Harold is awake, sitting up against the headboard, reading a book. His bare chest and messy hair are very appealing. John strips back out of his clothes and rejoins him in the bed.

 

He places the box of donuts between them on the covers.

 

Harold sets the book aside and gives a little gasp as John flicks the lid up. He reaches for John's hand and squeezes it. "Dearest, that's very kind of you. But...now that we're retired, I'm not sure we deserve these kind of treats anymore."

 

John shakes his head. "I disagree. Besides, we went without them for two years while we fought Samaritan. I figure we're owed something for saving the world."

 

Harold blinks. "Well, when you put it like that..."

 

He smiles, and John kisses him, a fond peck that lingers and then becomes a trail, from mouth to cheek to neck to collarbone. Harold slides his arm around John's back, gathers him nearer.

 

His other hand reaches for a donut. He holds it close to John's face, deliberately smudges some sugar against John's stubbled cheek, so that he'll have an excuse to lick it off later. John laughs, and eats, and makes a mess. Harold gets a dusting of sugar down his arm and in his chest hair, and soon John will tumble him down into the bed and press his mouth to every inch of skin. For now, they exchange syrupy sweet kisses, lips meeting between shared bites.

 

And finally, John knows: this is what happiness tastes like.


End file.
